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Authors: James Franco
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past, I saw a bunch of backs in backless dresses, and legs, and some asshole-looking guys. I said
fuck you
in my head to those people and drove on. There were billboards and big lights, but everything was a little dirty. I took Laurel Canyon through the Hollywood hills to get to the Valley because the acting school was over there.
The first night I stayed in a Best Western on Ventura Boulevard, near Universal Studios. It was a hot night and I laid on top of the green and white paisley duvet. The bed was stiff. I laid there and let the night soak into me as I sweated. It was all starting.
At 1 a.m., there was a fight in the room behind my head. The man told the woman she was an asshole.
“Don’t be such an asshole!” he said.
“Richard, it’s true. I don’t care what you say. It’s
true
.”
“Of all the assholes in all the world,
you,
I gotta be here with
you
.”
It was great. It was great to be in LA and to have people screaming.
The man kept saying she was an asshole. It was weird to hear a woman called an
asshole
.
“I swear to God,” Richard said. “I just… I just want to beat the fuck out of you, you fucking
asshole
.”
“Shit, didn’t stop you at Disneyland did it? Fucking shit.”
“Motherfucker! Motherfucking
asshole!
”
Then there was some stuff thrown and more shouts. There was something heavy that made a hollow sound on the floor and then something broke.
The screams continued. I turned my head toward the window. In the middle of the cement courtyard, there was a kidney-shaped pool. On the surface of the water, there was a bit of yellow and pink neon reflected from the hotel sign above. The yellow and pink danced with each other and went in and out of each other, and the people screamed next door, and I knew that everything was good in the universe.
The next day at noon, I drove down Lankershim Boulevard to the acting school that Pam had told me about called Valley Playhouse.
It had a plain brown front that you would miss except for the sign. I parked and walked in. I was a little late for the noon class; I have a problem being on time for anything, even things I care about. There was a lobby area with a bunch of movie posters and clippings. No one was there. Everyone was inside the theatre; I could hear voices. I opened the door as quietly as I could. The place was dark except for the little stage at the front. I saw a few faces in the audience turn back at me. I closed the door and discreetly walked to the back row and sat. I was next to a woman in her forties; she looked at me briefly and then back to the stage. She thought she was something.
It was a fifty-seat theater with a few raking levels that descended toward the plain gray rehearsal stage. There were students in most of the other cloth-backed chairs, about thirty of them. Everyone was looking at the stage. Onstage, there was a couch against the wall, a circular table in the center, and some folding chairs.
There was also a guy and a girl up there, both in their twenties. They were screaming at each other. The girl was seated at the circular table knitting something and the guy was standing over her. The guy looked like a model that had been doing drugs for a few years and the girl looked like a stripper. It didn’t seem like there was a script, they were just yelling and cussing and saying whatever. They sounded just like the people back at the motel. There were tears on both their faces but neither of them stopped yelling.
“Oh, you’re just going to keep knitting, hungh?” the guy said.
“Yeah, I’m going to keep fucking knitting,” she said.
“Oh, so what? I’m going to stand here and you’re going to fucking knit a… a little fucking
thing?
”
“Yeah, I’m just knitting a fucking
little thing!
”
“Oh, that’s great! That’s fucking great! You’re going to knit, while I’m fucking standing here.”
“Yes, I’m going to fucking knit! I’m fucking
knitting!
”
“You’re knitting.
fuck you
in my head to those people and drove on. There were billboards and big lights, but everything was a little dirty. I took Laurel Canyon through the Hollywood hills to get to the Valley because the acting school was over there.
The first night I stayed in a Best Western on Ventura Boulevard, near Universal Studios. It was a hot night and I laid on top of the green and white paisley duvet. The bed was stiff. I laid there and let the night soak into me as I sweated. It was all starting.
At 1 a.m., there was a fight in the room behind my head. The man told the woman she was an asshole.
“Don’t be such an asshole!” he said.
“Richard, it’s true. I don’t care what you say. It’s
true
.”
“Of all the assholes in all the world,
you,
I gotta be here with
you
.”
It was great. It was great to be in LA and to have people screaming.
The man kept saying she was an asshole. It was weird to hear a woman called an
asshole
.
“I swear to God,” Richard said. “I just… I just want to beat the fuck out of you, you fucking
asshole
.”
“Shit, didn’t stop you at Disneyland did it? Fucking shit.”
“Motherfucker! Motherfucking
asshole!
”
Then there was some stuff thrown and more shouts. There was something heavy that made a hollow sound on the floor and then something broke.
The screams continued. I turned my head toward the window. In the middle of the cement courtyard, there was a kidney-shaped pool. On the surface of the water, there was a bit of yellow and pink neon reflected from the hotel sign above. The yellow and pink danced with each other and went in and out of each other, and the people screamed next door, and I knew that everything was good in the universe.
The next day at noon, I drove down Lankershim Boulevard to the acting school that Pam had told me about called Valley Playhouse.
It had a plain brown front that you would miss except for the sign. I parked and walked in. I was a little late for the noon class; I have a problem being on time for anything, even things I care about. There was a lobby area with a bunch of movie posters and clippings. No one was there. Everyone was inside the theatre; I could hear voices. I opened the door as quietly as I could. The place was dark except for the little stage at the front. I saw a few faces in the audience turn back at me. I closed the door and discreetly walked to the back row and sat. I was next to a woman in her forties; she looked at me briefly and then back to the stage. She thought she was something.
It was a fifty-seat theater with a few raking levels that descended toward the plain gray rehearsal stage. There were students in most of the other cloth-backed chairs, about thirty of them. Everyone was looking at the stage. Onstage, there was a couch against the wall, a circular table in the center, and some folding chairs.
There was also a guy and a girl up there, both in their twenties. They were screaming at each other. The girl was seated at the circular table knitting something and the guy was standing over her. The guy looked like a model that had been doing drugs for a few years and the girl looked like a stripper. It didn’t seem like there was a script, they were just yelling and cussing and saying whatever. They sounded just like the people back at the motel. There were tears on both their faces but neither of them stopped yelling.
“Oh, you’re just going to keep knitting, hungh?” the guy said.
“Yeah, I’m going to keep fucking knitting,” she said.
“Oh, so what? I’m going to stand here and you’re going to fucking knit a… a little fucking
thing?
”
“Yeah, I’m just knitting a fucking
little thing!
”
“Oh, that’s great! That’s fucking great! You’re going to knit, while I’m fucking standing here.”
“Yes, I’m going to fucking knit! I’m fucking
knitting!
”
“You’re knitting.
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